


Désirée

by ChocolateCapCookie



Series: Cookie's Stocking Fills [8]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Age Difference, Artist Steve Rogers, Drunk Tony Stark, Fluff, Love Confessions, M/M, Older Man/Younger Man, Pining, Protective Steve Rogers, Silver Fox, Steve Rogers Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Younger Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-13 04:09:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28897170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocolateCapCookie/pseuds/ChocolateCapCookie
Summary: The stupid website had been wrong, wrong,wrong. Steve had tried everything it said to get Tony to like him back, but all he seemed to be in his eyes was akidHe fiddled with the neck of his flute as he watched the party, his eyes locked on Tony. Tony, who was moving with such a perfect, effortless grace that Steve both admired and envied. Tony, who had beautiful people of both sexes clutching onto him, hanging off his every word. With that kind of selection, how could he ever see Steve as someone he’d want, ever?
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Series: Cookie's Stocking Fills [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2161581
Comments: 8
Kudos: 91
Collections: POTS (18+) Stony Stocking 2020





	Désirée

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Naferty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naferty/gifts).
  * In response to a prompt by [Naferty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naferty/pseuds/Naferty) in the [stony_stocking_2020](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/stony_stocking_2020) collection. 



Steve raised the champagne flute up high, like he’d seen them do in old movies. “Happy Birthday, Mr. Stark,” he said, throwing a shy smile the man’s way as he gulped it down. “You don’t look a day over forty.”

“Oh, shut up, kid,” said Tony, but he seemed pleased. Steve could tell, because at this point, he’d been in love with Mr. Stark for so long, he knew every minute detail about the man. “Nah, actually, keep it comin’.” He clinked their glasses together and watched as Mr. Stark downed the whole flute in one go. Steve was much more hesitant — he knew what a lightweight he was, and he’d never tried champagne before, so this was something he’d have to do slowly.

“It… doesn’t taste that bad,” he said, a note of surprise clear in his voice. “Mr. Stark, why haven’t you let me have this before?”

“First of all, kid, you gotta stop calling me that. It’s ‘Tony’, or I’ll quit being your friend.” Tony smiled at him, letting Steve know he wasn’t really mad. Which was good, because Steve was more than a little anxious about things like this. “And second, I thought you didn’t drink?”

“I don’t, not really, but this is a special occasion.”

Tony let out a hearty laugh at that. “Kid, don’t let me turning another year older after I’ve already lived through forty-nine of ‘em be the reason you break your sobriety streak.” Steve felt himself blush. He did enjoy the age-difference dynamic between them — at 25, Mr. Stark was quite literally double his age — but he couldn’t have the man think of him as a child forever. 

“I’ll start calling you Tony when you stop calling me _kid_ ,” said Steve, his unusual confidence probably a result of the champagne. “I’m not a child, Mr.— Tony. I pay bills and do taxes and make my own doctor’s appointments, _like adults do_.”

“Well, I guess I’m not an adult then, cause I don’t do any of that shit,” smirked Tony. “I have people to do it for me.” HIs smile slid away when he saw Steve was still fuming, and Steve, although he didn’t know it, looked extremely adorable at the moment. Like a little kitten growling in defense of its home. “Okay, alright. Steve it is.”

“Good,” said Steve, slamming his flute on the table like he’d seen in the movies. “Now that I can tolerate you again, I got you a birthday present.”

“Does that technically mean I got myself a birthday present? Since I pay your salary?”

“It does _not_ ,” said Steve, “I know for a fact you’d never have gotten this for yourself.”

“Well, now I’m intrigued,” said Tony, resting his third flute on the table and crossing his arms. “Give it to me.”

Steve handed the beribboned box over to Tony, suddenly feeling nervous. This was stupid, he though to himself suddenly. Mr. Stark — _Tony_ — had enough money to buy the whole world and everything in it ten times over. He wouldn’t want the stupid, homemade stuff Steve made for him. He watched nervously as Tony pulled the ribbon off, resisting the urge to shut his eyes in shame as Tony pulled his gift out.

“Steve— holy shit, _Steve_.”

“I know, I know it’s not that great,” said Steve defeatedly. “I redid it a million times but it never really turned out right, and I know I should've got you something better, but—” Steve was cut off as Mr. Stark pressed a hand to his mouth.

“Steve, it’s _beautiful_ ,” he said quietly, almost reverentially. His eyes hadn’t once left the picture, not since he’d opened the box. “I don’t look like that. You’ve made me look better. _Younger_.” He paused for a moment, his voice suspiciously shaky. “A bit of flattery so you could ask for a raise, huh?”

“No, no, Tony, it’s nothing like that, I promise!” said Steve, tumbling over his words in his rush to make his point. “I just — I knew I couldn't buy you anything that you didn't already have, and I couldn't let your birthday pass without giving you _something_ , and well… this is all I can do well.”

“And it’s gorgeous, Steve,” said Tony fiercely. “And I can tell by the lack of a frame that you thought I was just gonna hide this away, but this is going front and center on my desk tomorrow. Or on Monday, I guess.” He paused for a second. “Thank you,” he said sincerely, looking Steve directly in the eye. “This is the best birthday gift I’ve gotten in… well, years.”

“You’re welcome.” said Steve with a shy smile, not fully tamping down on the delicious surge of pleasure he felt. So maybe the shitty “how to make someone like you” website wasn’t wrong after all — handmade gifts really did work magic.

“Well, now that the emotional stuff is over, and as much as I’d love to stay here with you all night,” said Tony, standing up and straightening his tie, “I’m going to go mingle with the crowd for a bit before Pepper decides fifty is a good enough age for me to die at.” He hugged Steve — a casual, one-armed hug, but one that sent Steve’s stomach swooping as high as the clouds. “Thank you, Steve. You’re the best friend I’ve got.”

Steve watched Tony walk away, noting the way his salt and pepper hair shone in the moving lights and how perfectly his suit hugged his figure, and felt his stomach sink sadly back down to the depths of his shoes.

The stupid website had been wrong, wrong, _wrong_. Steve had tried everything it said to get Tony to like him back

Be there for them at a time of need? Steve had held Tony in his arms as he cried over his breakup with Pepper, trying not to feel guilty over the fact that he was actually _happy_ about their breakup, since Tony was now single and available. Maintain eye contact? He’d done that for so long now, he could draw Tony’s eyes with his own shut tight. Make them feel appreciated and special? Well, Steve sure would’ve felt special if he’d received a portrait for his birthday.

This was what came from accepting advice from sketchy websites, thought Steve morosely. He fiddled with the neck of his flute as he watched the party, his eyes locked on Tony. Tony, who was moving with such a perfect, effortless grace that Steve both admired and envied. Tony, who had beautiful people of both sexes clutching onto him, hanging off his every word. With that kind of selection, how could he ever see Steve as someone he’d want, ever?

Steve sat there the rest of the night, wallowing in his thoughts. He hated parties anyway, he’d only come to this one because it was for Tony, and he’d go home right now if he didn’t know Tony would need him afterwards. His official job title might have been Tony’s ‘Personal Assistant’, but this job went way outside what it had said in the job description.

And, sure enough, Tony came stumbling up to him a few minutes past midnight, when the crowd had mostly cleared out, followed by a tired-looking Pepper. One look at his face, and Steve knew Tony was in for a terrible hangover tomorrow.

“How much did you have to drink?” he asked, exasperated but fond as Tony collapsed into the chair next to his.

“Not much,” Tony sniffled. “Like. One cup.”

“We didn’t have cups here, Tony,” said Steve, sighing and pulling Tony to his feet. “C’mon.” He supported Tony’s body with his own, trying not to let himself indulge at how closely they were touching. “Let’s get home, okay? Happy’s waiting for us.”

“Thank you, Steve,” said Pepper, looking relieved. “I didn’t think you’d still be here, and I would’ve taken him home, but now I can get back to arguing with the idiot managers of this place.” She pressed a kiss to Steve’s cheek and patted Tony’s. “Happy birthday, Tones.”

“Happy birfday to me,” Tony mumbled as he followed Steve into the car. Happy winked at Steve, but wordlessly drove them back to the Stark Mansion. You didn’t work as someone’s driver and bodyguard for this long without picking up their tells.

Tony’s head fell onto Steve’s shoulder as they drove, half-asleep but alert. Steve rubbed a soothing hand up and down Tony’s arm, and Tony smiled dopily.

“Feel good,” he said, and then proceeded to throw up all over himself, and a little bit over Steve too.

“Really, boss?” Happy yelled from up front, but Steve didn’t care, focusing more on keeping Tony from falling head-first into his own vomit.

“You just love to make my job harder, don’t you?” he sighed, but he carried Tony out easily as Happy pulled up in front of the mansion, and soon had him in his bathroom, fully dressed in the bathtub.

Steve hesitated a little bit. He and Tony really were close, and Steve had seen more of the man than any normal PA would. Still… stripping him naked in his own bathroom seemed like a bit of a violation of privacy. But it was either that or let him fall asleep covered in vomit, so Steve had to take the plunge.

He turned the shower on, letting it spill on Tony and the suit — the thing was already ruined, and Steve doubted Tony would ever have worn it again anyway. He was simply too refined for such pedestrian acts as wearing the same clothes more than once.

Steve gently peeled the jacket and tie off, easing the first few buttons of Tony’s shirt open. He held his breath as he peeled Tony’s trousers off, and washed him off as best he could. There were several lines he wanted to cross with Tony, but undressing him to the point of nakedness while he was drunk and unable to consent was not something Steve liked.

Still, he had to do that exact thing if he wanted Tony to not freeze to death, so he toweled Tony dry as quickly as possible. He stripped him of his shirt and boxers while _very pointedly_ trying not to look, forcing him into a pair of soft silk pyjamas. Normally he’d take the time to take everything in, to marvel at the softness of the silk, but his primary mission right now was to get Tony to bed, fully dressed and capable of waking up in the morning without a head cold.

“Y’smell good,” Tony slurred as Steve carried him bodily to his way-too-big-for-one-person bed. “Like ya smell, Steeb.”

“And I like yours, you big dork.” Steve smiled as Tony settled himself to sleep, apparently with no conscious thought. He wiggled his lithe body around a pillow, cuddling into it, fast asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.

Steve sighed as he watched Tony sleep, a wave of exhaustion suddenly hitting him. _I have to stay here_ , he told himself, _He’ll have a killer headache in the morning and he’ll need me._

So that was how Steve Rogers ended up taking a quick shower in Tony Stark’s en-suite, soon deeply asleep on the couch in Tony’s room.

Steve woke up entirely too quickly, roused by the groaning that seemed loud enough to wake the dead. Steve stumbled quickly out of bed, or the couch if you were to be pedantic, rushing towards Tony and trying to rub the exhaustion out of his eyes.

“Steve… it hurts,” moaned Tony, pouting up at Steve with a hand covering his eyes. Steve had to stop himself from pulling a sketchbook out and drawing this image — Tony looked every inch a renaissance model. Even at fifty.

“I got you,” he said, quiet and soothing, and he fed Tony the pills and water he’d kept ready last night. Tony gulped the whole bottle down, resting his head back onto the pillow with a groan.

“Some days, I really can believe I’m half a century old.”

“You’re not that bad,” said Steve loyally. He’d always defend Tony, even to Tony. “Just a few too many drinks last night.”

“I don’t remember shit.” Tony sat up and looked around him, frowning. “How’d I get back up here? I don’t think I pay Happy enough for this.”

“Wasn’t Happy, it was me,” said Steve nervously. “And I’m sorry about the whole—” he gestured vaguely at Tony’s clothes. “It was either that or let you wake up in a dried pool of your own vomit.”

Tony looked at himself, like he couldn’t really comprehend what Steve was saying. “You… carried me home?”

“And cleaned you up,” Steve confirmed. “I’m sorry.”

“Why the fuck—” Tony shook his head, wincing. “Why the fuck are you sorry?”

“Because it was weird and invasive? I promise I didn’t take any pictures of you naked and sell it to the tabloids.”

“I know you didn’t. Anyone who literally babies me after a hangover is someone I can trust.” He looked at Steve with his big doe eyes all earnest and shiny and bloodshot, and Steve felt his heart flutter again. “You’re a great friend to have, kid.”

Steve deflated like a pricked balloon. There it was again. The dreaded F-word. And after all he’d done. Tony just thought he was being kind to him? That this was all a result of their _friendship_?

Say what you wanted about Steve Rogers, but the one thing he really did care about was his dignity. And he was more than willing to make a fool of himself for Tony, but not when he knew that this was clearly a lost cause.

“I didn’t do it ‘cause I’m your friend,” he huffed, trying not to let his voice tremble too much. “I did it because I love you.”

Tony just gaped at him, looking stunned and exhausted at the same time. Steve felt a little bad for dumping this on him when he was hungover, but a man had to explode at some point.

“I’ve loved you since the day you walked into my office and asked me to come to Tokyo with you because you’d forgotten a meeting. I had nothing packed, I didn’t have my passport on me, but you dragged me there anyway. And then you paid off my student loans in return.” Steve paused, trying to get himself under control. “How did you never see that?”

“You… what?” Tony seemed momentarily struck dumb. “But you’re always so nice to me.”

“Because I love you, you idiot.”

Tony shook his head. “You can’t. You can’t love me.”

“And why the fuck not?”

“Look at me,” said Tony, raising his arms and looking himself over sadly. “I’m old and faded. Even Pepper broke up with me, and she’s closer to my age than you are to hers. You could have your pick of hot kids. Why me?”

“You are such an oblivious _idiot_ ,” growled Steve, stalking over to the bed. He grabbed the collar of Tony’s shirt and pulled him in for a kiss.

Admittedly, it was not the best idea he’d ever had, considering Tony tasted like a combination of old alcohol and morning breath. Still, Steve Rogers was nothing if not stubborn, and he stayed pressed to Tony’s lips until the older man pulled away in shock.

“You… you’re not joking about this. You’re serious.”

“Would I have carried you up here, cleaned you up, got you set with hangover cures _and_ slept all night on your rock-hard couch if I wasn’t?”

“I just… I just thought you were a good PA. That you wanted a raise or something. By being my friend.”

“If you think I’d stoop that low for a raise, fuck you, Tony.”

This time, it was Tony who pulled Steve in for a kiss. “Fuck,” he panted, right into Steve’s open mouth. “I’ve wanted… but I thought… I’m too old for you, Steve.”

“Believe it or not, I find your silver hair extremely hot,” Steve informed him. “Now please shut up and brush your teeth so I can get back to kissing you.”

**Author's Note:**

> I had to end it there or I never would’ve stopped writing omg. This prompt was so amazing I wrote it in one shot; I kid you not I wrote this all through my cousin’s wedding, because I started it in the morning and just couldn’t stop. Thank you for the prompt and for inspiring me to find writing fun again!


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